


Different Light (You Make Me Feel Beautiful)

by myownspark



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Frottage, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Larry Stylinson Is Real, M/M, Making Love, One Shot, Porn with Feelings, RPF, Teenagers, The X Factor Era, Underage Sex, larry stylinson - Freeform, liberal use of the f-word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myownspark/pseuds/myownspark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slice of Xfactor lust, followed by a slice of fall 2014 love.<br/>2010 – teenagers have awkward, messy, selfish sex sometimes<br/>2014 – Inspired by the lovely answer Harry gave to Giuliana Rancic when she asked him what his afterparty plans were (AMA ceremony 2013). Louis and Harry having “a quiet one” lodged in my brain for better or worse.<br/>Or, the one where Harry wrecks Louis in 2010 and Louis wrecks Harry in 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different Light (You Make Me Feel Beautiful)

Fall 2010

“Ow! Fuck, Lou, I can’t even see!”

“Shh, quit your whinging,” Louis snaps playfully as he clamps his hand over Harry’s giggling mouth.

“Get the light on!” Harry croaks out between Louis’ fingers, trying to catch his breath. The bucket that he’d kicked is clattering between their legs, but their bodies are bumping in all the right places in this dark janitor’s closet down the hall from the set.  When Louis had pulled Harry away from the catering table with this bright idea he hadn’t banked on the smell of Pine-Sol being so strong in here.

“I’m looking for it, shit …” Louis runs his hands over the side walls of the closet, finding nothing but shelving and broom handles. Harry finds this hysterical and leans his head on Louis’ shoulder, cracking up into his neck.  Louis was always pulling him off to some out-of-the-way hiding place he’d found - drafty dim hallways, storage rooms … he’d once brought them to an empty office suite whose sole piece of furniture was a lonely but useful couch.

“Shhh,” Louis pleads again, this time right into Harry’s ear, but Harry’s laugh is contagious; the boys aren't far from giddy and Louis’ soft giggle sounds like a flute echoing in the hollow space. Sure, Louis could find some other place for them to go, someplace well-lit and comfy, but bloody hell, no. They’ve been gawking at each other since Harry’s hand sparked against his early on in the rehearsal, and they’ll have to be quick as it is before someone starts to miss them.

Louis gulps, trying to get his shit together. “We don’t have all the bleeding day, Harry,” he huffs, trying to stifle a snort, and he figures the best way to get this going is to pull Harry close and bite his earlobe.

“No, no we don’t,” Harry agrees into the darkness with one last chuckle. Louis pulls his hand away from Harry’s mouth now, feels over his soft cheeks. Harry’s short brown curls brush over Louis’ eyes as he trails his tongue from his ear down the side of his neck.  He pulls Harry’s chin toward him, but the first kiss is a miss, landing between his bottom lip and chin, making Harry snicker again.

“Stop moving, twat!” mumbles Louis, frustrated now. He’s got Harry where he wants him, but it’s dark and echoey and cold, with no soft place for them to stretch out, and now Harry can’t even stay still to be kissed.

“Right, right, got it,” Harry concedes. He takes a big breath and does his best to stand still.

Louis’ hands are on both sides of Harry’s face then, one of his thumbs over Harry’s lip to keep track of where it is as he pulls their faces together. They kiss with his thumb between at first, and Harry’s lips are warm, pliant, tasting like Coke and taco chips. It’s quiet here now, just the sound of sucking and fabric brushing together, and he’s got his best mate’s arm around his waist, and Louis could burst he is so happy they are finally alone.

He darts his tongue in past Harry’s lips, colliding with teeth. It is full and searching and Harry opens up wider to take it in; Louis reads that as his invitation to grab Harry’s hand and pull it to his crotch.

“Wanna?” he asks, a little breathless now, stroking over Harry’s hand over his erection. Harry nods in the darkness, still fascinated by the still new, so very real feeling of Louis’ cock under his hand, the bulge big and hard and ready for him. They’ve done this a lot, well, as much as they can while being watched and recorded and minded, but it always seems to Harry as if they have to go from naught to sixty in nine seconds flat, and it is taking him a minute to catch up.

“Yeah?” Louis asks again into the dark. Did Harry answer? “Can’t see you Haz. Wanna?”

“Oh, … yeah, yes, I wanna.”

“K then,” and Louis unzips his fly and guides Harry’s hand down his pants. They stroke over his cock, Louis bringing their lips together again with a sigh that sounds like relief. Harry has this way of making him feel high and buzzy, and right now his cock feels like the only part of his body that matters. Harry has the rhythm and the squeeze right; the angle is weird though, and Louis can tell Harry’s wrist is twisted funny. He tries to shift them around, and they are shuffling, stepping on each other’s feet in the dark. A few more pulls and Louis remembers that Harry has a dick too, and he reaches down for the front of his trousers. Harry bucks toward him, pressing hard against the palm of Louis’ hand, uttering a curse, and Louis curses too because this is so absolutely mad, but it’s Harry, and he wants this with him, loads more than he even wants them to win.

“Wait, wait… oh shit,” Louis loses his balance and he braces himself against the wall, brooms knocking behind him. He reaches out for Harry to pull him back, but instead Harry is sliding down to kneel, anchoring him against the wall with one hand, pulling down Louis’ trousers with the other.

Although he is expecting it, the soft wet grip of Harry’s mouth on his cock makes his shoulders jump and he falters again, grasping Harry’s shoulder instinctively for support.

“Yeah?” Harry sighs out.

“Yeah,” Louis replies in a measured voice, and what he really means is fuck-yes, of-course-yes, please-goddamn-yes.

Harry’s taking him in tentatively at first, and it’s all Louis can do not to roll his hips forward and plunge down his throat. He grasps the base to squeeze it a little, to head off some of the building pressure, but Harry pushes his hand away and replaces it with his own, beginning to stroke up to meet where his lips leave off. It’s wet and tightish and it’s his massive crush Harry, which makes a stuttery groan fall though his lips.

Harry can’t see what he’s doing but he can feel it, salty and smooth and so heavy on his tongue. He wants to hear that again, hear his best mate’s bell of a voice go low in his chest, so he draws him in as far as he can without choking, over and over, but soon there is a burning prickle in his eyes and his jaw feels like it might lock. He lets Louis slide out of his mouth and changes his plan of attack, nudging Louis’ thighs apart with his shoulder and coming in from below  to lick underneath, taking one downy ball in his mouth at a time, letting his tongue glide over them in between.

Huuunh. That’s new. Louis’ gasps drop a register.

 “You … Jesus, mate you are so …  soo good at this…” and he throws his head back so it hits the wall behind him with a soft smack. He hears Harry’s chuckle again but it is the breathy vibration against his balls that makes him go weak.

Louis’ knees buckle when Harry swallows him again, and Harry’s arm rises up to steady him across his chest, pinning him to the wall. Louis puts his hand over Harry’s, moves it slightly so its rests on his nipple through his shirt. Harry feels for it through the material, finds it, and presses it down hard between his fingers while he’s sucking down below.

Oh no. “Harry,” Louis begins the warning tone clear in his rising voice. Harry is right there with him, leveled up suddenly with the knowledge that Louis is close.

“Huh,” Harry holds the flat of his hand hard over his trousers, bucking up against it, friction drawing across his skin, and he comes, hips clamping stiff against nothing, and he pushes the groan down so his eyes want to burst. He rises up as Louis shudders, in time to catch his lips on his neck while Louis spurts over his hand into the darkness with a muffled growl.

Their foreheads press together as they catch their breath. This, just this, Louis thinks, reaching to grasp his fingers into Harry’s curls. The feeling of Harry’s hair between his fingers is lulling him into a sweet place where he can close his eyes and be quiet, just be, be Harry’s, if he’ll have him, and the thought of leaving this hard piney box of a room to go back to the real world seems near impossible.

“Lou,” Harry calls out in a stage whisper. “Lou, c’mon, we gotta go.” There is shifting, tucking, but Louis is moving too slow, arms won’t work right to gather himself back into his trousers. Harry helps him, smoothing the fabric as best he can by feel alone. “Ready now, let’s go get cleaned up.”

Harry backs out of the closet into the light, and Louis has to squint as his eyes adjust. Harry comes into focus for the first time, cheeks blooming red, smile wide and eyes bright as he’s backing away down the hall. He is reaching for Louis, hand out, and the air smells fresh as it washes over them.

 “C’mon, Lou!” he says again, and all Louis can do is stare dumbly at this beautiful lad who wrecked him, already six paces ahead, beckoning him with his smile and his hand.

Fall 2014

Harry is lying under Louis, letting himself be kissed.

He is relieved to be back in their big bed again, their own bed that smells like their sleep and their sex with a bit of clove underneath. Louis, stripped down to his pants, had waited only until Harry had kicked off his boots before pulling him down. They’d been apart almost a week, after all, and although Harry finds FaceTime to be highly advanced technologically, Louis has determined it is sorely frustrating in every other way. In the lamplight of the bedroom their arms finally tangle around each other, the fabric of Harry’s button-down shirt crinkling under Louis’ warm bare skin.

What began in a hurried crush has taken a decidedly leisurely turn. Harry feels Louis pull up from him, gently breaking off their kiss. He takes a breath and opens his eyes to find Louis staring down at him. His lips look flushed and fixed in concentration, blue eyes bright as they search over Harry’s face.  Fingers begin tracing the length of Harry’s eyebrows, then trail down over his cheekbones and pause near his mouth.   Harry cranes up for his kiss again, but Louis draws back, busy exploring the details of his skin, his full lips, his long dark curls spilled over the pillow.

He relaxes into Louis’ gaze contently; he has been too long without it. It’s going to be a quiet one tonight, he can tell, and he’s more than willing to play this languid, lazy reacquainting game as long as Louis needs him to; but he notices Louis’ eyes have gone pensive, so he makes a play of biting one of his thin fingers. 

“Have I been away so long, love, you’ve forgotten what I look like?” Harry murmurs with a low chuckle, his green eyes curious and fond.

Louis offers a quick smirk in return, but he is preoccupied. Harry detects a slight shake of his head as Louis’ fingers stall on his lips, tracing lightly over their dampness. Their soft breath is the only sound in the room; Harry lets himself feel a tinge of regret over breaking into their reverie with his teasing. He inhales again, resolving to meet Louis where he is, to be nothing right now but the object of Louis’ focused attention.  He searches out Louis’ gaze, and their eyes lock; with a shift of his chin Harry tells him softly, “Go on, then.”  He puts his cool hand on Louis’ chest, and it is their gesture of “mine,” and Louis smiles for real this time.

His fingers reach into Harry’s long curls, longer then they have ever been, and he gives them a tuck behind his ear. He brushes his knuckles against the stubble on Harry’s chin, hooks his delicate thumb under the neck of his shirt to trace his collarbone.

Their faces move close, and Harry thinks he is going to be kissed again, but instead Louis dips down and grazes Harry’s cheek with his nose, their breaths mixing. Louis’ fringe falls over Harry’s eyes, and their cheeks press together for a long moment, their eyelashes close enough to sweep over each other. Harry clasps his fingers over Louis’ neck, back into the hair that’s been cut short again at the nape, the other hand still holding fast over Louis’ heart. It is Louis’ full weight on him, or it could be Louis’ breath on his mouth, or might be Louis just looking at him like this from under his dark eyelashes that makes his breath come fast and his cock strain against the fabric of his jeans.  

Their foreheads rest together briefly, Louis shifting his weight to ease his own ache. They both breathe out a gasp and Louis brushes his lips along Harry’s, but this time it is quiet and fleeting and it feels like a question. will you? Harry hears the kiss ask,  tongue dabbing at the corner of his mouth. open up to me?  The tips of their tongues touch before their lips close and release. will you?

Harry finally grasps that he is being wooed.  

Louis reads the answer in Harry’s open eyes plain as words, telling him yes, of course take, just take, always, yes, and so Louis does, he takes Harry’s lip between his teeth and sucks it before he lets it drop, then comforts the little swelling with his tongue. Harry tries in vain to be still for Louis, but can’t cooperate because Louis’ fingers are curling through his hair and his lips keep capturing his mouth and he keeps making this pleased hummm. His hips jut up and Louis rises up with them, making Harry chase after his mouth to keep them connected.

Harry needs to let his legs splay open, just wide enough to cradle Louis’ thighs between them. His jeans are thin and clinging to his skin, and the weight and heat of Louis’ bare legs pressing down on him feels like what he’s been waiting for his whole life. Louis is hard too, solid against his stomach, and Harry resists reaching down to touch him through the thin cotton of his pants; he wants to draw this out for as long as possible, this delicious slow burn of tasting, touching, looking. His hands find Louis’s fine jaw instead, holding his mouth to his, feeling the muscles underneath tighten when Harry caresses them.

It is Louis’ turn to roll his hips now, pushing hard just once into the warmth Harry’s open legs have made for him. He groans into Harry’s mouth, looks up to see his wide clear eyes go half-lidded. Louis watches him bite his bottom lip and hears his hushed pant when he leans over on his elbow to unbutton Harry’s shirt. His fingers stop to trace over his treasured birds before he exposes Harry all the way to his lower belly, smoothing a path with his hand over the butterfly and down through the laurels.  He rubs over the bulge of his low-slung jeans, feeling heat, and cups his hand, making Harry’s hips flex and his abdomen tighten.

Louis peels back the buttons from the fly, and when he pushes the fabric from Harry’s cock there is already moisture at its tip. He noses into the dark hair at its base while stroking its firmness purposefully, and Harry is arching his back, feeding his hips, surging up into Louis’ tight grip. Harry’s hands knead into Louis’ shoulders for grounding as Louis’ lips trail over his cock. He licks the moisture from the tip first, drawing a broken moan from Harry’s throat.

“I like that sound,” he whispers, eyes meeting Harry’s as his hand begins a rhythmic pump. “Wanna hear that again.” 

Another few wide licks and he takes the head in, releases it, takes it up again, letting the wetness collect between his lips so the glide is smooth. He reaches back around Harry to pull the jeans down a little more, just enough so he can snake his arms around and pin him completely.  Harry feels lusciously immobile from the hips down, bloody hell Lou is strong, and his hands are squeezing around Louis’ wiry arms so tight while he swallows him.  His abs tense in time with the slippery work of Louis’ strokes, so hard that his shoulders lift off the bed, and he has to watch himself be devoured. His torso twists in a writhe, and he knows he must be leaving scratches on the tops of Louis’s arms, but he can’t care now, can’t let this go on much longer. He pulls Louis up, hands in his hair, breathing his name, uphere, c’monlou, and Louis is chasing the words out of his mouth with his tongue.

“Don’t you wanna …” Louis whispers out between Harry’s lips, “you can … ”and Harry grips Louis’ butt cheeks tight, pushing him down into the warm bowl of his pelvis while shaking his head no, no, “Just this, love, just this, this…”and Harry tugs the fabric away so Louis’ cock can slide hotly over his own, slick and hard and so beautiful.

 Harry holds tight while Louis hangs over him, and the first hard grind leaves them so stunned they go still.  It takes a breath to regroup, and the next roll is just as strong as the first but angled better, this time bursting a bloom of heat where they join.  There it is, the third one is perfection, and Harry wants Louis to just pound down into him, into his thighs still securely bound inside the waistband of his jeans.  Harry guides the pace from underneath, urging Louis on, and it is an exquisitely tight squeeze; their cocks seem get friction from every angle. 

They are kissing, tasting each other’s desperate groans when their eyes meet again, all the previous intensity gone to haze. They smile between them, Harry panting out a dreamy “yeah” and Louis dropping his head to Harry’s shoulder, nodding and nodding as he thrusts, fingers framing Harry’s face. “Yes,” Harry says again, folding his hand in the hair behind Louis’ ear and embracing him around his back, tight enough to leave a handprint.  

Harry’s yes becomes louder with every strong curl of Louis’ back, bloody hell, so strong, yes. His soft stubble stripes against Harry’s cheek and their tongues meet as their cocks do, swollen, heavy, over and over in a hot slide, and it’s not a game anymore, this quit being a game a long time ago. There’s just pressure and muscles pulled tight and the rhythm carrying them, yes, bass drum heartbeats hammering in their chests.

The switch is flipped and Harry can see it coming; it looks like an avalanche this time, a wall of white bearing down on him. He feels small and powerless against it but he could cry he is so grateful, yes, that it will be here soon to crush them. He can do nothing but hold tight and watch it coming for him

and each yes sounds more astonished through a tight jaw and grinding teeth it is getting closer going to overtake him because he is giving his Lou absolutely everything and fuck he is straining to catch his breath but he has to he has to make sure Lou knows he’s done it yes open for him and he has to see his eyes right now

yes there they are baby yes take and Louis has enfolded him like a vise around his back so there is no more room between them fabric crushed skin burned fuck nothing at all separating and yes another curl fuck so strong yes

there they are those fierce eyes and he’s growling too and there it is there is the shudder yes perfect world his arms are trembling annihilated and now he can breathe again lungs fill delicious yes fuck come down baby here

they’re suddenly wet and clasping for hands and hold onto me their eyes say, hold me, hold on yes, let me see you, yes, still yes

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the E-News interview, if you would like to see Harry saying he will go to bed after the award ceremony and Louis looking like he won the lottery  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6GnCXCkjjZA&list=FL-pzCIuEm6D6yWFTIEBSy3Q&index=7  
> posted by hudzsilullaby
> 
> myownsparknow on tumblr. Love always wins.


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